A War of Few Emotions
by Priest Li Xiang
Summary: It's been five years since the end of the war, and three and a half since the death of Relena at Duo's hands...


A War of Few Emotions  
Kijutsu "Sugar-chan" Kitsune  
  
---  
  
The building was shadowed, the darkness dancing and weaving between scattered lights, barely skimming across the hardwood floor, before fading away. The stage was dark, curtains drawn as to avoid anyone from ruining the items held upon it. The only place that seemed to hold any significant amount of light was the bar.  
  
Of the scattering of people, two stood out. A woman behind the bar, and the man half-asleep against the counter, a laptop pushed to his side. Her blonde hair was short ad wild, dancing into her ocean blue eyes, shading them from the bare bulb above her head. A leather apron was tied over her black jeans ad the grey T-shirt she wore. Her left ear was pierced twice, the right only once.  
  
He wore a black vest, and leather pats, a heavy plait of chestnut hair draped across one shoulder, tied with a dark ribbon. His bangs were held back from his face by a black headband, his cherub features mostly hidden by his crossed arms, as his nose was buried into his elbow.  
  
The barkeep frowned at her boarder; "You aren't usually this depressed, D. What's wrong?"  
  
D lifted his head from his arms and the counter, cheek red from the pressure placed against it via his arm, linking dead, violet eyes up at a shadowy pair of worried blue. The brown haired man shifted slightly, his three-foot long plait slipping off his shoulder, swinging lazily back and forth through the air. The expression upon his face betrayed nothing, not eve a glint of emotion in the deep seas of his eyes, even to one as adept as the barkeep, who read that emotionless face each day, "Didn't you hear me, D? What's wrong?"  
  
"Gomen, Brook," D spoke, the smooth silken alto erased of any type of emotion, on infliction, "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Brook ran calloused fingers through her short hair, pulling it from her face for a moment, before it swayed roughly back into place, "Come off it, D. You weren't like this when we were teens. What happened to you?"  
  
"Life happened," was the monotone response, "the war took everything out of me, you know."  
  
"Aa," came the soft sound of agreement, her voice tinged with old sadness, with the sound of old suffering, "You miss the other pilots, ne?"  
  
The man chuckled wryly, eyes lighting faintly with suppressed emotion, before his head sunk back into his arms, hiding those once expressive amethyst irises from view, "My twenty-first birthday, and the only one to share it with me is my former rival."  
  
The blonde woman smiled sadly; looking down at her calloused, work roughened hands. Things were different these days, what with peace reigning over the planet and the colonies. The war had changed them in more ways than one, and despite the fact that it was this peace that they had been fighting for, neither felt comfortable in it. When teenagers were all that stood between global domination and global peace, and said teenagers were you and your friends, you change to fit   
the role.  
  
She'd give up everything she'd ever done to become an average, normal girl. Or at least, a normal girl in her mind: one who fought in a war; be it from political lines, or the front lines, could ever truly have a normal life. The life she'd given up, a life of power, riches, and fame, had to e what everyone wanted. Not to her, to she who had lived "the good life" for the first seventeen years of her life, had become a barkeep: with the help of her depressed friend.  
  
Three and a half years since she'd faked her death, with his help. She had, to have herself assassinated, hired him, the man known as the god of death. Oh how she had wanted to die then, but the shot hadn't been fatal, much to her disappointment at the time. Instead of living her life as she had been, the reports had been faked, and her death publicized. She left, to learn how to be a normal, lowborn girl.  
  
The pair had met up one night when he'd bee looking for a job, and she'd recognized him, despite the changes wrought during his year ad a half in prison. They may have been rivals at one point, they may have had their differences, as he was Christian, and she was not, but they had become friends.  
  
"I'm so sorry, D."  
  
"Don't be," was the soft voice, the faintest hint of emotion tinging his voice; the almost imagined tint of sadness and cold amusement, "it's not your fault."  
  
The door jangled open, the rough wood scraping across the cement floor in harmony with the bell above the portal, and the blonde moved to her new customer. She hadn't seen him around-- he had her own hair cut, but untamed brown locks instead of her neglected blonde, and deep pools of ice that were, in reality, eyes expressive as D's.  
  
He was garbed in a pair of leather pants that clung to his legs, shining darkly in the faint light of the tavern, and a black bombers jacket that fit snugly to his body, protecting him from the cold night.  
  
The bar wasn't that busy that night, only ten or so customers in total, so she wasn't rushed to do anything. D wasn't performing that night, and that brought the number of customers down by a significant amount.  
  
"'Allo!" Brook gave the customer a lopsided grin, one that looked slightly malicious in the darkness, "Welcome to the Kage no Shi, Mister...?"  
  
"Yui," the man stated cooly, Prussian eyes glinting, noting with silent satisfaction at the fact that the wild haired blonde flinched upon hearing the name. She had, quite obviously, heard of him. Most people had of course, through rumors and through words of truth: he, Hiro Yui, had been one of the pilots in the war.  
  
"Ah, right. Well, what do you want, Mister Yui?"  
  
"Sake," the man spoke softly, without infliction. Brook had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. First it was D, the emotionless boy wonder, and now it was Yui, the original emotionless one.  
  
"Oi, D!" Brook called out, turning to spare her friend a slightly strained smirk, "You're the one who hid the sake, go get some!"  
  
D lifted his head again to scowl, "Brook..."  
  
"Go get some sake for mister Yui, D," the low undertone in her voice made D pauses, the man noted clinically. The other bruin's eyes skimmed across Yui for a moment, diligently noting various aspects of the man, before the plaited one stood. D was rather short, but he made up for it in the layers of muscle that were visible by the fact that his vest hung open, and he wore nothing beneath.  
  
He moved out of the tavern, via a back door, coming back in a few moments carrying a small crate. Setting it down on the counter, D snorted, violet eyes glinting coldly, "Don't order me around, again, Brook."  
  
"Who's the one paying your rent, hmm?"  
  
The man frowned, moving off to one of the tables, the laptop that had been on the counter tucked under one bare arm. The blonde shook her head, blue eyes following her friend's movements with a frown, "'That man! He'll be friendly and open when he's performing, but get him away from the mike, and he's the coldest bastard you ever did see. I wish he'd be like he was when we were teens..."  
  
"Why do you pay his rent?"  
  
The bartender started, turning to face her customer. His face was blank, but his eyes were alight with curiosity. She sighed faintly, pursing her lips, before leaning forward on the counter, combing a bang out of her eyes, sighting him down with sapphire pools of suspiciousness, "D's got a history; people don't like him, and he   
doesn't like people. I pay his rent so he doesn't have to see his landlady, you understand?"  
  
"Hn"  
  
Brook rolled her eyes as she moved away from the counter, muttering beneath her breath, "By Shinigami's wings..."  
  
"Shinigami doesn't have wings."  
  
Yui and Brook both turned to face D, who had somehow snuck up on the pair without either of them hearing-- Brook didn't mind, but it made Yui nervous. No one should be able to sneak up on him; he was a trained terrorist, for God's sake! Or, he used to be a trained terrorist. He was a computer engineer these days; it was good pay, but it wasn't who he really was.  
  
"What's the deal, D?" the woman asked, eyeing her friend carefully; she didn't like the look on the long-haired man's face, "You haven't smiled like that in years..."  
  
D gave a dark chuckle, violet eyes flashing dangerously, "That's because I haven't had a job in years, since... well, you know."  
  
"A job?" Yu watched as worry crossed the woman's face for a second, before it was replaced with a calculated calm; she'd obviously been preparing for something like this for a long time. Her eyes became slightly distant, looking into the past, and she pursed her lips, before nodding slightly, "How much?"  
  
"Four hundred"  
  
Brook's eyes widened, "You have got to be kidding... it's grand, right?" D just gave her a look, and she gaped openly, "Million?! Four hundred million?! What the he... who?"  
  
"Your sister-in-law."  
  
Yui's eyes narrowed an imperceptive amount, focus sharpening on Brook. He understood what wasn't being said: D had been hired to kill someone, that someone being Brook's sister-in-law. Brook frowned for an instant, then nodded slightly, "I didn't like her all that much," she seemed to have forgotten that Yui was listening, and scowled, "Oh do this! You can't do that; it's not proper! Feh, she never was the one for my brother."  
  
D smirked, "He wouldn't have married her if his koibito hadn't been killed."  
  
"His lover was engaged, D."  
  
"So? That's never stopped you, why should it stop him?" D prodded with an innocent look upon his face, even as he hopped over the counter, pulling his vest off, and searching beneath said counter.   
  
"I did no such thing! Beside," Brook snorted, smacking her friend on the back of the head, "We were raised differently. He fought, and I... I made a mess of everything."  
  
"Damned straight you did," D muttered, pulling a skin-tight black turtleneck from behind the counter. It fit snugly against him, outlining his build, the long braid smacking lightly against his back as he moved. A leather holster was quickly strapped across his chest, and a dark-blue jean jacket with a brown leather collar, thrown over the gun and it's case, before anyone could see. A pair of black shades lighted upon his head, and he checked his reflection.  
  
"Looking good, D," Brook smirked, drying a glass. She might have been talking with her friends, but she had a job to do. Besides, she was used to doing such a thing while talking. It was a bartender's art, D had joked one night.  
  
"Aa," the braided one agreed, "Later, Brook."  
  
"C-ya, 'Shinigami'," snickered the barkeep, and the bruin was gone. Despite the look on his face, of absolute calm, and maybe a little curiosity, Yui was troubled. D was familiar to him, as was Brook, and he'd only known one man called Shinigami, the god of death. That man had died in prison for the assassination of Relena Darlian, the Vice Foreign Minister, and former Queen of the World.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
Brook blinked, turning back to Yui, "What do you mean, 'what's his name'? You heard me talking to him. His name is D."  
  
The cross look on Yui's face seemed to make Brook blanch, for reasons he didn't know. He wondered what she'd heard to make her react in such a manner, "What is his name, Brook?"  
  
Brook's eyes wouldn't fix on his face; her gaze was upon the door as she worried her lip. Should she tell him? Could she tell him? Finally sighing, she looked back at her customer's face, but her eyes never gazed into his own, as they had when they talked previously.  
  
"D has a history, I hold you. You want to know D's history, if you want his name, ne?" Yui blinked, yes, that had been his intension... how had she known?  
  
"Wait a few minutes, would you? Oi!" her voice carried out over the bar, "We're closing, people! Git outta 'ere before I 'ave to throw ye out!"  
  
The few patrons chuckled, filing out after paying. What the lady wanted, the lady got. If you didn't do as Brook said, you got hurt. Brook didn't give a damn about the police, and more than one man had learned that the authorities could do nothing to Brook Dunne. The reason most came back to the bar was because of D, and because of Brook's ability to make any drink taste like ambrosia.  
  
When all were gone, Brook nodded to her slightly impressed, however much he didn't show it, audience of one, "All right. I don't know if I should be telling you this, but D probably would end up spilling himself. If I know one thing about D, it's that he can never keep a secret from a Gundam pilot."  
  
"You Know."  
  
"Of course I know, Baka!" Brook snapped, "I was part of the damned war, 'Pilot 01'. Do you want to hear this or not?" At his nod, Brook continued, "As I was saying. D could never keep a secret from the Gundam Pilots, but he sure as hell kept OZ from learning. Feh, he should have been dead ten times over... anyways. D knows everything anyone could ever want to know about the pilots-- from Meiran to the schematics of Wing Zero-- like the back of his hand."  
  
"Wing Zero's schematics?! How?"  
  
"D knows all and sees all," Brook snickered at the private joke between her and D; all it did was make Yui confused, "Actually, he told me he asked Rashid for the blueprints so he could... 'Fix' part of Wing. I think he memorized the plans in case of emergency; he didn't want any of the pilots to die, no matter how many times they tried to kill him."  
  
Yui scowled, he didn't remember anyone like that...  
  
"You still don't get it, Yui? There's a saying that goes with D: "Death can't die". He's proved it time and again, coming away from so many incidents, alive," Brook smiled faintly, "D is his first initial, Hiro."  
  
"Duo..."  
  
"Duo," Brook agreed, "Duo Maxwell, Pilot 02 of Gundam Deathscythe-Hell Custom, reported to have died in prison on July 8th, AC 198; body cremated and scattered to the stellar wings. The boy known as Shinigami." At Yui's scowl, Brook laughed, "D got out of prison on July 8th, with the help of a loyal citizen, working under orders of the late Relena Peacecraft, as stated in her will-- 'Let he who kills me go free'."  
  
"No one saw the will," he interrupted and Brook's eyes danced.  
  
"Oh, of course not. It was well hidden and only one of her blood would be able to open the level eight-priority security block. The copy of the will, however, was hidden in the holster of the gun that killed the girl. Duo and she planned her death for months before they pulled it off. Suicide hidden as murder, something one would not expect from a pacifist, ne Hiro?"  
  
"And Duo told you this?"  
  
"Oh, no, of course not. I knew before D became a part of my staff."  
  
At Hiro's blank look, Brook laughed, leaning across the counter to whisper in his ear, "Duo wasn't the only one who faked his death," he shivered slightly, but said nothing, "After all, the Vice Foreign Minister couldn't be a barkeep."  
  
Drawing back, she laughed at the startled expression on her former infatuation's face. D was, she decided with a smirk, right about this. Surprising people could be fun.  
  
"Oh, and Hiro?" Brook's eyes bored into his, "I wouldn't try telling anyone I'm still alive. There are people out there who will kill you on sight if you so much as tell someone else."  
  
-------  
End...?  
-------  
  
  
Author's rabble:  
  
Okay, this was a project of mine that I worked on while bored during Information Processing. At first, I passed it off as an English assignment, and then as a fanfic contest entry. I many have sent it in as an entry, but the contest was long over by the time I managed to rewrite it from the printed version (the original version was deleted at the end of the semester)  
  
What do you think? Should I continue it, or leave as is?  
  
~Sugar-chan 


End file.
